


Burgers, Clean Sheets and...Fish?

by GertieCraign



Series: My Destiel Crack and Fluff Slave AU Thing [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Actually This Is About 20 Minutes AFTER Their First Roll In the Hay, Alternate Universe - Crack, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Awkward Sexual Situations, Caring Benny, Castiel Doesn't S'plain Well, Castiel's Friends Have His Back, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Time, Cheeseburgers, Communication Failure, Confusion, Dean Winchester Knows How to Apply Himself to a Task, Dean Winchester is Gonna Like this Slavery Thing Just Fine, Ellipsis Abuse, Fish, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Heartbroken Dean, Humor, Jealous Dean, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Protective Dean Winchester, Smug Dean, Swearing, Virgin Castiel, nosy friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 13:55:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10466586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GertieCraign/pseuds/GertieCraign
Summary: This is the second or follow-up chapter for the fic 'OPEN THE DOOR, BENNY!'There may be more in the future. I don't know.Castiel and Dean have just spent a few hours, um...*clears throat*...getting to know one another.  This can probably be read on it's own. If you want the head canon/back-story, though, please read 'OPEN THE DOOR, BENNY!' first.Enjoy!:-)





	

 

 

Dean very carefully raised himself up onto one elbow and leaned over his master. He was just going to check to see if he was still asleep - and he was - but Dean’s gaze lingered. He smiled. Castiel was a hot mess, but he was beautiful, and fun, and ridiculous, and Dean liked him _a lot_. He leaned down and lightly kissed his master’s bare shoulder as he slept.

Slowly...silently...he inched his way out from beneath the sheet covering the two of them, and made his way toward the bathroom. He stifled a grunt when he stumbled over the comforter that was piled up at the foot of the bed. And then dodged two pillows, righted a chair and a lamp that had been knocked sideways, set the picture frame back on the dresser... Ok, so things had gotten a little out of hand. It could have been worse. He was just grateful Castiel used fluorescent bulbs in his lamps, because if that had been an incandescent, it might have set the damned room on fire. It’s also possible they wouldn’t have noticed in time to get out, because, again, there were a few moments when ‘not burning to death’ may have only made it to the number _two_ spot on their list of priorities.

Dean grinned and glanced back at his sleeping master. He shook his head, slipping into the bathroom and silently closing the door.

He took the time to get himself totally clean. He didn’t want Castiel to wake up to the sight and smell of someone who was still funky and...crusty. This was going to be his first ‘morning-after.’ Dean wanted him to have minty freshness.

Castiel was still gross, of course. He’d passed out immediately after their last round. The poor guy had barely been able to speak, by the end. He’d had zero muscle tone left in his limbs. No way was he going to drag himself to the bathroom for a clean up. Dean had offered to get a towel and washcloth and do it _for_ him, but Castiel had just given him a sloppy grin, mumbled something about dandelions being pretty and people shouldn't remove them, and then just exited this existence entirely. Dean let him sleep. Yeah, it was nasty, but screw it. They could have fun together in the shower when he woke up. _‘Besides,’_ Dean thought, _‘if your partner’s got enough energy right after you’re done to get all cleaned up, then you didn’t really apply yourself.’_

With that thought, Dean’s smile was back and he stepped lightly out of the bathroom. He found his boxers and pulled them on. They were still clean. Not surprising since he’d only had them on for about an hour total. He made a note to himself to try to find something of Castiel’s that was still clean. The silky little robes the other slaves had placed in the room were certainly not going to be to his master’s liking, if jeans and a t-shirt was too risqué an outfit for him. Dean shook his head, still marveling at that thought. He almost didn’t want to know what the guy usually wore...afraid it might be a Vulcan burial robe or a burqa or some shit.

He adjusted his boxers and headed for the intercom. Before pushing the ‘talk’ button, he looked back at his sleeping master and saw a small spot of drool forming on the pillow. His smile got a little more smug. He’d definitely applied himself.

Dean pressed the button on the intercom and put his face close to the microphone.

“Hey, Benny,” he whispered. “If you can hear me, open the little window thing in the door. And be really quiet.”

There was a brief delay and then Dean heard the soft slide of the little metal access panel opening. He raised himself up to look out at his soft-spoken friend.

“You ok in there, brother?”

“He’s sleepin’, but yeah. We’re good. I’m starvin’ though. Any chance we can get some decent grub? Like...a lot? I guarantee he’s gonna be hungry when he wakes up.” Dean let some of his smugness bleed through in that last statement, and Benny grinned.

“Is he now?” Benny shifted to peek around Dean, and Dean pushed his head closer to the access panel, blocking his view.

“Hey! This ain’t a peep show!” He grinned at his friend. “He’s fine. He’s a...satisfied customer, ok? Good enough for ya? Ya dirty bastard.”

Both of them giggled, trying very hard to keep their voices low enough. Dean looked back again to make sure they weren’t disturbing him.

“Good enough, Chief. Whatcha’ll want?  

“What can we get, this time ‘a night?”

“Anything at all,” Benny said with a small flourish and a huge grin. “The whole kitchen crew’s waitin’.”

“Jesus…” Dean said, shaking his head. “You people are all horrible. No wonder the guy’s twitchy. It’s from all the noses up his ass.”

Benny laughed again. “Dean, we been waitin’ for this day for a long, long time. We don’t sniff him for everything, but something like _this_ comes along...yeah, everybody knows. And I mean _everybody_. Hell, the _gardeners_ are all awake and ready...I guess in case y’all want some carrots or some shit. This here’s big news, brother.”

Dean was having a very hard time keeping quiet enough and he kept looking back at their master.

“Ok, well, if it’s a full menu, how ‘bout four bacon double cheeseburgers. Extra cheese. Extra grilled onions. Some ‘a those awesome fries we had the other night, with that seasoning stuff sprinkled on. Uh...two milkshakes. Oh, and...can you get us a little cooler with ice and a couple of bottles of juice and some Gatorade or somethin? And some Snickers, too.”

“God Almighty!” Benny gushed. “The hell you doin to him in there? You’re supposed to take care of him not kill him!”

“Pff...where’s your sense of adventure?” They both laughed again. “No I don’t wanna kill him and that’s the point. So...we just need some stuff. Oh, and a change of clothes, ‘cause he’s not gonna… I mean, come on...who the fuck picked out those robes? They’ve met the guy, right? He ain’t wearin’ that!”

“Dean,” a groggy voice interrupted. Dean turned back to look at his master.

“Hey!” he said. His voice was still quiet, but the tone changed entirely. “I’m sorry. I woke you up?”

“Mmm-hmmm. ‘Sokay. ‘M a light sleepr.”

“Ok. I’m sorry, though. Benny’s gettin’ us some food. You want anything special?”

“Umm…” Castiel took in a deep breath and let it out. “Fish.”

Dean blinked. “Fish,” he repeated, confused. “That’s it. Just...‘fish.’ That’s all the information you’re gonna give me?” He looked back at Benny, who was laughing much harder now. “You know what to do with that?” Dean asked his friend.

“Fish sticks, macaroni and cheese, and applesauce. You got it, sir,” Benny called out to his master.

“That’s what ‘fish’ means? Or that’s the kid’s menu at Denny’s?”

Castiel snorted and grinned. He was still mostly asleep, but he was listening. “‘Sfish,” he slurred, and then drifted into the void again.

“You wanna cut back the cheeseburger order, Chief?” Benny asked, still chuckling.

“Nope. Bring it all. I told ya. I’m starvin’. And burgers’ll keep for a bit, so… Oh!” Dean snapped his fingers. “Are there more sheets and stuff in here? And towels? I couldn’t find any.”

“I’ll bring you a nice big supply. Lemme call the kitchen first, and I’ll get the other stuff together and bring it.”

“Thanks, Benny.” Dean winked at his friend.

“‘anku Beh...ny,” Castiel barely said.

“My pleasure, sir. You just get some rest, now.” He turned his attention to Dean. “Don’t you go too far, Chief. I’ll be back directly.”

“We’ll be here. Make sure you knock.” Dean threw him a wicked grin. Benny shook his head and laughed, closing the access panel.

Dean chuckled and turned back, walking slowly toward the bed. He knelt down - his face level with his master’s. Castiel opened one eye and grinned at him. Dean pursed his lips and mock-frowned, shaking his head.

“‘Fish’,” he grumbled. “What’s the matter with you?”

Castiel snorted and then feigned ignorance. “What?” he asked, much more awake, now. “I like fish.”

“Just…’fish.’ Like, what...go to the pond out back? Hook whatever fish bites first, slap it on a plate and hand it to ya? You want ‘em to clean it and cook it or you just gonna Gollum the thing?”

His master snorted again, and then giggled. “That’s disgusting.”

“That’s what _I’m_ sayin’,” Dean agreed and grimaced. Castiel snorted again and wriggled over a little closer to the edge of the bed to be nearer to him.

“How you doin’?” Dean murmured. He smiled warmly and began stroking his fingers through his master’s hair. “You ok?”

Castiel let his eyes flutter closed and he took a deep breath. Dean’s voice had such a caring tone. Even in his teasing, there was never any malice or scorn or pity. And lying there, soaking up the attention and affection being freely doled out by this wonderful creature, he couldn’t imagine feeling any more ‘ok’ than he did right now.

“Yeah,” he whispered. He opened his eyes and looked at Dean’s face for a long time...studying him. Memorizing him. His gaze eventually moved from Dean’s face to his forearm. He watched the tiny tendons flex and release as Dean’s fingers continued to stroke his hair. His arms were healthy and muscular - the skin smooth with the occasional scar from hard work or hard play or both. Castiel wanted to know the story behind each one. He wanted to know everything about Dean.

He noticed several veins running just under the surface of the skin. Reaching up, he very lightly brushed the tips of his fingers along those bluish lines...and smiled.

Dean snorted softly. “What?” he asked, watching as Castiel studied him. He felt himself blush, a little embarrassed by the intensity those blue eyes were aiming at him. He’d had lovers that had liked to look at him. That was normal. And he was aware he was doing ok in the looks department. He’d certainly been told enough - and ogled enough - to know that. And he’d never had to work very hard to get attention, when he wanted it. And sometimes when he didn’t. But he couldn’t remember anyone ever looking at him quite like this. Not with this kind of wonder and awe...as though he were the most beautiful thing this man had ever seen. Dean knew he absolutely didn’t rank anywhere near that high on the awesomeness scale. This guy must really be sheltered or unaware of beautiful things in the world if he puts Dean within a mile of the top of the list. He watched Castiel finish tracing the last of the raised veins and slowly lower his hand back down onto the bed sheet.

“David,” Castiel said. His voice was very soft, and it came out sounding like a prayer. He let his eyes slide closed again.

Dean’s face fell slightly. _‘Oh,’_ he thought. It took a fraction of a second for his mind to supply the answer to the question he absolutely did not want to ask. _‘He bought you because you look like the guy he loves and can’t have, not because he actually liked you.’_

The pain was nearly instantaneous. He hadn’t expected that. Dean swallowed and briefly lowered his eyes.

He’d been wondering for weeks why he’d been auctioned as a sex slave. And why anyone had purchased him as one. Sex slaves were supposed to have gone through extensive training and they knew all those protocols and mannerisms and postures and etiquette and on and on. Dean had seen a documentary about them. They were amazing. And then he’d found the pornos. Those had been...humbling. The athleticism and flexibility alone was enough for him to stand tall and salute those dudes, but...the skills...holy shit. They were fellatio ninjas. It was crazy. Dean knew in the deep down innermost parts of his soul that the least skilled of those guys probably had him beat in damned near every aspect of sexual performance. And that if he tried to bend his legs like he’d seen some of them do, they’d just crack and come off - like Ken doll legs, when you bend them wrong. And he was old enough now that no amount of yoga was ever gonna change that.

Of course, those were the guys who hadn’t been all chopped to hell. He’d seen some of those, too, and had nearly thrown up. He absolutely could not believe someone would do that to another human being just to get a more focused fuck out of them. Not even a better fuck...just one more focused on the _master’s_ pleasure. He’d thought it was an urban myth until he saw a video with five guys lined up, kneeling and naked. Various amounts of the penis removed. None of them had their balls anymore. Three of them were completely smooth. It was horrifying. That image was the first thing to come to mind when he was told he’d be auctioned as a sex slave, and it was the very first slave-related thing he’d had to shove firmly into his little internal denial box. Because that wouldn’t happen to him. It wouldn’t. Because, it just wouldn’t.

When he’d been brought to Castiel’s estate, he’d found out right away that none of the guys had been cut up. That had been a huge relief. Of course, none of the slaves had been used by this master for sex either, so it didn’t mean Dean could breathe easy on that front yet.

He’d definitely been confused by this new master waiting so long to be with him, though. He’d finally just assumed the guy had a weird voyeurism kink or was super busy or...who knew. But the possibility that Dean was just a stand in for someone else... He’d dismissed that idea early on. And continued to dismiss it each time it had reared its ugly head. Because it couldn’t be true. That would be just a little too awful. It was one thing to have someone leering at him and touching him because they owned him and wanted to play with their toy. That would be soul crushing enough. But at least they’d want _him_. He wasn’t sure he’d survive being used like that by someone who actually wanted someone else, but had settled for him. He’d be a source of constant disappointment for someone and he could never fix it. And he could never be with anyone else. And he could never leave.

“David, huh?” Dean said, trying to sound as casual as possible, while his heart slowly died. “His arms look like mine?” He stopped stroking Castiel’s hair and let his hand rest on the edge of the bed.

“Mmm…” Castiel said with a sigh. He nodded. “The model of male perfection.” He smiled. “But it’s the details...the shape and veins, the bone structure and position...the musculature. The matte texture of the skin. I love looking at him. He’s exquisite.” He opened his eyes and gazed at Dean. “Just like you.”

“Huh,” Dean said. He nodded, still not quite looking at his master anymore. “So where is David now?”

“He’s still in Florence. I imagine he always will be. Too hard to move.”

“You, um...do you see him often?”

“No,” Castiel said, looking down at Dean’s hand on the bed. He reached out, grasping gently at Dean’s fingers. He let his own fingertips explore each one. “It’s been years, but I’d love to see him again... Dean!” He curled his fingers firmly around Dean’s and looked at him with eyes as wide as his wrecked condition would allow. “You should come with me! Italy is so beautiful. Have you ever been to Florence?”

“Florence, Italy? No, no...been to Florence, Kansas, though. And Florence, Illinois. Florence, South Carolina... Hell, I think there might be a Florence in every state. Been to a bunch of ‘em.”

“That settles it, then,” Castiel said. He grinned at him. “I’ll take you to Florence, Italy. And then you can take me to some of the other Florences. We can do a first-hand comparison.” He giggled, delighted by his own ridiculous plan. Dean grinned back at him the best he could.

“You sure David isn’t gonna get...ya know… jealous? If you’re cartin’ me around Italy?”

Castiel giggled again and gave Dean a conspiratorial smile. “He just might. You’ll definitely give him a run for his money.” He winked at him. It was awkward and looked odd, and it made Dean grin in spite of the hurt he felt. He was finding it hard to not smile at this man...like Castiel had some kind of dork-charm voodoo. He could do or say literally anything and it would somehow be endearing, no matter how bizarre or off key.

“But...no...David has so very many admirers. I doubt he remembers me at all.” Castiel grinned and began slipping his fingers over and around Dean’s again, touching and stroking and outlining them with the same methodical reverence he’d used on Dean’s forearm. “He barely even looks at me.” He snorted softly.

Dean let that sink in. And it slowly started to twist the pain he was feeling into something more manageable. More comfortable. More familiar. Like an old, old friend... _rage_ was coming to the rescue.

 _‘David,’_ his mind sneered. _‘Sounds like a prissy douche. I mean, what kinda mouth-breathin' moron would look at Castiel and think, “Eh...I can do better.” Really? David? Better than smart, funny, rich, educated, kind, generous, thoughtful...oh and did I mention on a scale from zero to hot, the guy is fucking ON FIRE?! Who the hell are you hangin’ out with, David, that Castiel isn’t worth your time? You know what...you clueless piece ‘a shit...keep your ass in Italy! If you don’t want him, I can take care of him just fine! And don’t you ever...EVER show up here! ‘Cause I will put up with you ignorin' him and makin' him feel bad about himself for exactly three seconds before I will spill your guts on the god damned sidewalk, you candy-ass, no-taste-havin’ motherfu-’_

Dean actually heard the sound of car tires squalling on pavement, as his entire mind slammed on the brakes. _‘Wait a minute!’_ he thought. _‘Wait just one god damned minute! This dude_ bought _you, like, five weeks ago -_ BOUGHT _you, Dean! - to be his fuck buddy. That was your whole purpose. That’s all he wanted you for and you just spent all that time freaked out and pissed off and desperate to get out of this and scared as shit that this guy was gonna be some twisted clone of that nasty fucker in the floaty suit in Dune…   At seven o’clock tonight, you finally meet him. You fuck him. And by_ eleven _o’clock you’re_ jealous _of some asshat named David and ready to_ kick his ass, _just so you can prove to your new_ owner _that you’re totally better than that brainless mook? WHO ARE YOU! And where the fuck did you save the back-up, ‘cause we need to reinstall the NON-crazy version of me_ right fucking now!’

Castiel looked up at Dean. He noticed that his expression had lost some of it’s softness and he squinted. “Dean? Are you alright? Is something wrong?”

“Hmm? No! No…” Dean lied. “I, uh...I was just thinking. Sorry.”

“Alright,” Castiel said. He was still studying his face and squinting a bit. “You would tell me, wouldn’t you? If something were wrong?” He wrapped his hand fully around Dean’s and gave it a firm squeeze. “Please, Dean? I need you to tell me. I can’t always guess from what’s happening the way other people seem to be able - ”

“Yeah! Yeah…” Dean lied again. “There’s nothin’ wrong. I’m good.” He sighed. “I’m good.” He squeezed his master’s hand back and gave him a small grin. “It’s fine.”

Castiel searched his eyes for a moment longer, and then seemed to accept his answer. He nodded and smiled. Something occurred to him and he started. “Wait! You’re familiar with David, aren’t you? I’m sorry, I should have asked. I know not everyone is into this...um...all of this the way I am. Have you seen him?”

Dean stared at him. How in the hell would he know David? He knew nothing about this guy, other than he lived in Italy. “Uh...no...um...sir, I don’t...I don’t know David. I...should I?” This had just become a seriously confusing conversation and he really wasn’t done being pissed, so...he hoped Castiel was taking this somewhere quick before he lost his patience.

Castiel opened the drawer in the nightstand and pulled out a tablet and began browsing. “Forgive me. It’s a weakness of mine. I can be really bad about jumping into conversations and not fully explaining myself. I apologize, Dean. I must have sounded like I… I must have been babbling… Ah! Here’s an excellent photo. This...is David!” He turned the tablet so Dean could see. He had a huge smile on his face. “Isn’t he marvelous?”

Dean looked at the photo in stunned silence. He furrowed his brow slightly, looking back at his master’s face, then back at the photo. He used his finger to scroll down a bit and read the caption underneath:

 

     _‘David’, Michelangelo, 1501-04, Galleria dell'Accademia, Florence_

 

“That’s a statue,” Dean said intelligently.

“Can you believe it?!” Castiel beamed. His face held such delight. “The detail is absolute perfection. Look at the closeups. Here...this is a good one of his hand and forearm...see? Look at the texture...the bones and muscles... _the veins_! Amazing! Solid marble, and it’s like he could just step off of that platform and stroll away. And these pictures do not do him justice, Dean. You _have_ to come with me and see him in person. You won’t believe it. He’s beautiful!”

Dean’s eyes had been bouncing between the pictures and Castiel’s face, but then he’d stopped looking at the pictures altogether. He was watching this man’s entire being light up as he gushed about something that he loved, trying to share every ounce of his excitement with Dean. Castiel began to tell him about the rest of the museum, too and about the beauty of Florence in early summer and Dean just pushed the tablet aside and leaned over and kissed him. And he kept kissing him for quite a long while, until a gentle knock on the door forced him to pull away.

“Dean,” Castiel said. His face showed enormous concern as his thumbs brushed a few tears off of Dean’s cheeks. “There _is_ something wrong. I knew it. Please tell me. I won’t figure it out on my own. I’m terrible at figuring it out on my own. Please, Dean.”

Dean shook his head and brought Castiel’s hand to his lips and kissed it. “It’s ok, really. There _was_ something, but...it’s over now. I’m good.” He kissed his hand again and grinned at him. “I promise.” The knock came again, a bit louder this time. “I gotta go get our stuff. And the food...I hope.”

Castiel held onto his hand as Dean rose. He tugged it back for just a moment and kissed the knuckles. Concern still filled his eyes.

Dean leaned down once more and gave him a quick kiss. “Trust me. I’m ok. And I’ll be right back.”

Castiel stared into his eyes. And then grinned and nodded once. Dean smiled back at him, and then turned and strode toward the door.

 _‘A fuckin’ statue...Christ,’_ he thought and rubbed his eyes. He paused for just a second by the door, before pressing the intercom. He let out a huge lungful of air, snorted and shook his head. _‘I am in deep, deep trouble.’_

 

**Author's Note:**

> I had zero intention of writing this, as of yesterday. But I have somehow managed to get myself entirely sucked into this little AU experiment and I'm spiraling out of control. And HazelDomain and I are now considering writing sister fics that are basically the same starting point, but one is dark and one is crack and fluff and just seeing what happens.  
> And if I don't finish at least one Chapter of 'The Tether' very soon, I'm gonna start cursing and throwing shit. I'm serious. This is getting out of hand.


End file.
